How brave she was, but also vulnerable when it came to Stefan’s charm. She smiled. So now it was her turn to step into her grandmother’s shoes and prove she, too, was up to a challenge. Abbie looked about her with a sigh of pleasure, enchanted as always by the wildness of Scafell and Hardknot where once whole troops of Roman soldiers would march from nearby Ambleside to the port of Ravenglass on their route to Ireland. Now these fells were the haunt of enthusiasts who walked for pleasure and who, with Easter now over, were already filling the streets of Carreckwater with the clatter of their boots and bulging rucksacks. Parking the old Ford by St Margaret’s church, Abbie delivered Aimée to school with lots of encouraging hugs and assurances that she’d be there to pick her up at three o’clock. ‘Why didn’t Jonathon come with us?’ the little girl asked, as she lingered uncertainly at the school gate, holding rather tightly to Abbie’s hand.
